17. Callum #2
I think about all the things that had to happen for the two of us to meet like this. Her move to Waterton, my growth in therapy, all of our crossovers at work. The logistics of how we met. The science behind our relationship.
And I decide I like her version better.
“Kismet is the perfect word. You’re right,” I tell her.
“Get used to saying I’m right. It’s going to happen a lot, now,” she teases.
“You say that like it’s a punishment. I’d never deny you the satisfaction.”
We walk to the bed of the truck, and I pull out a lawn chair I brought for her, gesturing for her to sit.
“Why am I sitting in a lawn chair?”
“I have a lot to set up, so I thought you’d want somewhere to relax while I do that.”
Peyton tilts her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You brought a lawn chair to a drive-in movie so I could sit on my ass while you do all the work?”
“…yes?”
She sits down in the chair and stretches her legs, leaning back slightly. “You are a distressingly ideal man. I’m keeping you.”
“That’s the plan,” I mutter, pulling out the tarp and poles.
“Are you assembling a tent?”
“It’s more of a canopy with sides. I have the mattress pad and the blankets I brought for the truck bed, but I thought having makeshift curtains on either side would protect us from the chill.
This does that, but still lets us see out of the front.
” I secure the poles on either side of the truck and put the tarp over them, leaving plenty of space for me and Peyton underneath.
She cranes her neck to see what else I brought… which may or may not be everything. A thermos of hot chocolate, a bag of extra marshmallows, charcuterie, a portable heater, hair ties (Clover’s idea—she’s always looking for one), and plenty of pillows to put in between us in case Peyton needs them.
Ten minutes later, everything is set up—even the small lantern I brought, which illuminates the space without being too bright.
“Wow,” Peyton breathes, climbing into the truck bed, “Thank you for doing all this.”
She slowly crawls up toward the head of the mattress and sits, curling her knees under her.
I go in after her, careful to leave some space between us. A fleeting nervous thought reminds me that I’ll be lying next to Peyton for the next few hours. I run through my list again—do I have everything I need to make her comfortable?
Nodding toward the thermos of cocoa, I say, “Don’t worry, the hot chocolate is temperature controlled in this electric thermos—one hundred and forty degrees exactly. See? There are digits on the side.”
“I wasn’t wor—”
“You don’t have to be concerned about the cheese either. The serving temperature should be right around sixty degrees.”
“Callum—”
“Ma actually got this thermos for me for Christmas, but I’ve never really had the opportunity to use it.
Now that I’m using it, though, I need to take a picture.
One thing about parents from the Midwest is if you’re using something they bought you for Christmas, you have to send them a picture.
It doesn’t matter if months have passed. No one knows why.”
“Callum.”
“Yeah?”
She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it and smiles. “Do you want me to take your picture with the thermos?”
Suddenly realizing I’m rambling, I heave a sigh. “That’d be great.”
Peyton takes my picture—one normal and one goofy—and we send it to Ma, who’s delighted to see it “being put to good use.”
I reach for the picnic basket next to me. “Should we start with popcorn or charcuterie?”
She taps her chin a few times. “What if we added popcorn to the charcuterie?”
“I can make that happen.” I grin and lay out the wooden board I brought first, arranging the cheeses, fruits, and meats. Then, I start adding the popcorn.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Peyton chides, placing her hand on my wrist.
“What?”
“You can’t put the popcorn next to the salami. Then it’ll be salami-popcorn.”
I huff a laugh. “Noted.” Picking up the stray popcorn, I relocate it to the opposite end of the board.
“Not so fast. Now it’s too close to the fruit. What if it gets soggy from the juices?”
Maybe I should be annoyed, but then I look into her eyes and all I can think is that I’d put the popcorn on the moon if she asked.
“Why don’t you place it where you want it, Pey?”
“A wonderful idea,” she says, before taking the handful of popcorn and shoving it directly into her mouth.
I snort at her attempt to swallow the giant scoop of popcorn and think to myself, how did I get so lucky? Followed quickly by, do I need to give her the Heimlich maneuver?
A rogue piece of popcorn lands on my arm.
“Oops,” she mumbles through a mouthful of popcorn.
“No worries,” I say, picking up the piece and popping it in my mouth.
I hand her a bottle of water to wash it down. “Are you done chewing?”
“Yep.”
“Great. I’m going to kiss my girlfriend now.”
I give it a few seconds, enough time for her to stop me. But it feels as though we’ve made it past some of the initial fears, like enough trust has been built for her to carefully hand over the reins.
The curve of her full lips meets mine in a gentle press that gradually turns into more. I feel her chest relax against mine, becoming pliant, as if I’m melting her tension away with my mouth. I lick into—
We snap apart at the sound of a giant roar.
“Holy shit!” Peyton yelps before realizing it’s just the MGM lion on the big screen. She drops her head into my neck.
My heart is racing. “Jesus, Pey. I lost years off my life.”
“Sorry.” She cringes. “I thought I was going to die an untimely death from a wild animal.”
I cup her jaw. “It wouldn’t be a bad way to die, kissing you.”
“That’s very sweet,” she says, pecking me on the underside of my chin, “but also very, very, wrong. Death by a rabid animal is a terrible way to die.”
A soft laugh falls out of me. “You’re right. The lion population in suburban Ohio is a huge problem.”
Peyton settles back into her spot, tugging her oversized hoodie down over the top of her leggings. “I’m glad I wore comfy clothes. It’s so cozy in here. Why are you wearing hard pants?”
“Hard pants?” I look down at my blue jeans.
She nods solemnly. “Yeah. Pants with no stretch. It should be a crime to watch a movie in hard pants.”
“This is the first time I’ve heard of ‘hard pants.’ I wasn’t aware of the movie rules. Forgive me.”
“I’ll let you off with a warning this time. You did wear a comfy top.” She points to my long sleeve shirt. “But if you’re already going to wear hard pants, you might as well put on your full inspector costume. That’s my favorite of all.”
I chuckle and scratch my chin. “Wow. Is it the green hard hat or the khakis that does it for you?”
Peyton gives me a once-over, like she’s envisioning my uniform. “Both, plus the polo. Just an overall solid combo for me.”
“I’ll make a note of it. So I can further woo you,” I say, booping her on the nose.
“I’m pretty wooed already, honey.”
I kiss her forehead. “Everything is going to plan then, honey.”
Both of us pause. Did we just exchange honeys?
“I like it,” Peyton says.
“Hm?”
She smiles. “‘Honey.’ I like it when you say it.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Okay. Honey.”
As Harry and Sally keep running into each other on the screen, it’s impossible not to think about our own story. I prefer our version, though. The burning curiosity I experienced in my ambition to know her. The glint in her eyes whenever we met by happenstance.
“We never hated each other though, huh?” I ask her.
“Hm?”
I shake my head, remembering that Peyton doesn’t reside inside my brain. “Sorry, I was just thinking about us. Sally loathed Harry at the beginning, but we never hated each other.”
She snorts. “I’m pretty sure you hated not knowing what my job was.”
“Nah, it was only ever rooted in interest.”
Peyton squeezes my arm. “That’s sweet, Callum. I love that you pursued me.”
“A rarity in my world.” I pause, thinking about my conversation with Dr. Jain. “I didn’t think I’d ever pursue someone again, honestly.”
“Why?”
I pause, wanting to be more open with Peyton, let her in a bit more.
“It’s hard to pursue someone when you’re running on empty.
” I twist the dial on my watch, giving my fingers something to do.
“There are these unwritten standards for men. Grappling with mental health makes you ‘weak,’ and being emotionally honest makes you a wimp. But I’ve come to realize it takes more strength to work through this shit than anything else I’ve ever done.
When you say I pursued you… You have no idea how good it feels for me.
Because that’s what it was, Pey. And you being my girlfriend isn’t the endpoint for that kind of chase. ”
It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking, as her expression stays completely neutral. The rational side of me knows that I should sit with the silence and wait for her to respond, but another, louder side itches to explain further in case it was too much and she’s freaked out.
“It feels wonderful being wanted by you, Callum.” Peyton’s eyes soften. “You can always be honest with me. I feel closer to you when you let me in. Don’t ever feel like you can’t share something with me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She shoots me a glare. “Honey, I can do. But call me ma’am again, and I’ll break up with you on the spot.”
“We just started officially dating today. It’s too early for threats, honey.”
She mutters something, but I capture her words with another kiss.
We continue watching the movie in comfortable silence, eating most of the snacks and finishing the hot cocoa.
Over the course of the film, we stretch out and drift closer.
The gap between us gets smaller and smaller until both of us lay completely flat in the padded truck bed, propped up only by a couple pillows underneath our heads.
After the last of the popcorn disappears, we make it to the iconic restaurant scene in the movie. Both of us seem to shift a bit when Sally delivers her classic “O.”
Peyton snorts. “God, I miss orgasms. It’s been so long, I could probably come from just a turkey sub, too.”